A Once Forgotten Dream
by Harusaki
Summary: A mix of Kingdom hearts and Final Fantasy Characters. The possessed vampire, Vincent Valentine, rescues a small half-Were child from the hands of demon slayers. Unfortunately, those who hunt the undead never give up easily.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_ Years past_

Rain darkened the pavement deep in the city's core, pounding down mercilessly as though to beat the city to its knees. White lightning lit up the sky, skittering across blackened clouds, chased only heartbeats away by powerful claps of thunder. If there was such a thing as mount Olympus, then the gods had yet again met in battle in the heavens, and all the earth could do was watch with baited breath for the end. Yet for all the fury the gods could muster, there remained those in the vast labyrinth of concrete and iron who did not gape in awe at the sight, for many the clashing of the gods was all too common and all too unwelcome a sight.

The poorest section of the city was known to the local riff-raff and drifters as, Waste. Here, the black mark on the white sheet of the great city Territh, was were the unwanted, the rejects and the runaways made their claim. It was here in the twisting, crumbling streets of the old city that one could leave behind the outside world, because Waste was a different world of its own. Here, one's own blood and flesh was currency; here a criminal running from the authorities could seek safe haven, and almost always find who upheld the law dared to enter the inner core of Waste, seeking only to patrol the perimeter and snap up the stragglers who failed to evade them in time. The city had no use for those who couldn't contribute to the general wealth of the populace.

There were no prisons in Territh, no life sentences. Any criminal who's crime was deemed to be more than a year's worth of time had only one fate. A dark building, vast and wide like a giant raven watched the city with a critical eye; black, sooty chimneys belched blackened smoke, filling the air with a sickening stench. The Incinerator, or Watchtower as it was nicknamed, the place were the unwanted of all races and species met their end with swift precision. The largest crematory furnace in the world, never suffered from lack of work. Indeed, there were some who said that as long as the city stood, so would the Watchtower, the dark queen at the side of her husband.

Yet, even as a plant will, over time, wind its way through the earth seeking the sun, breaking rock and crumbling concrete, so will life continue, in all its shapes and forms, to seek to find a better existence. For some, the chance comes when fate throws an opening in their path and circumstances beyond their control push them forward. Then there are others who must find their own way and break their own trail.

One such unwanted huddled beneath the stairwell of a crumbling hovel on the outskirts of Waste, near the financial district on its western most rim. The rain had lessened, but he still clung to the shelter of a broken cardboard box that was his temporary shelter. The rains here were often violent, but luckily they ended almost as fast as they began. Besides, a little rain, or a lot, was never enough to chase him away from his dinner. As the rain lessened, a little blue haired head peeked out. His hair was short, mussed and filthy, almost gray with dirt and grime, as were the pale cheeks. The only thing clean about him, from his bare, clawed feet and hands to his tattered jeans and T-shirt, was his eyes. Large, shimmering pools of liquid gold, with jet black centers.

Saix winced at the small strands of bright light that filtered down from the slowly clearing skies, holding up a small hand to shield himself. Across the street from his alley way, people who had taken refuge beneath overhangs and shops began to filter out onto the sidewalks, slowly filling the air with the comforting clamor of everyday life. Saix came here often, and the sounds of a bustling street were comforting to him, so unlike the deathly, fearful silence that marked the inner core of the Waste. Food was plentiful here in the financial section; men and women rushing to and fro from work to home often had little time left to finish their expensive foods, and often threw them, half finished, into the nearest garbage bin.

Eyes darting to check for the "Sweepers", marked by their bright red trench coats and stun-guns, Saix took a small, hesitating step from his box. The streets were clear. He was safe. Darting forward like a blue mouse, he dove into the shadows of the nearest garbage can. A mixed variety of smells met his nose and he sniffed. Most definitely reeked of the inedible, but his sharp senses were tuned to pick up on the slightest scents that could possibly indicate anything still palatable. Standing up to his full 4'3", he sniffed again, testing.

Suddenly his ears perked, their little pointed tips poking out beneath his hair, and he knew he'd struck gold. The unmistakably tangy scent of baked sea-squid filtered out from beneath the lid, tantalizing him, just out of reach. Saix wasn't perturbed, he had been on the streets since age five, and now three years later at eight years old, he was still alive and kicking; Quite the amazing feat by normal standards. Children abandoned so young rarely survived more than a few days, yet he had, and more than that, he thrived. Retrieving his card board box from beneath the stairwell he scooted it up against the side, the young half-human sprang atop with simian agility. By balancing on the corners of the box he had learned to spread his weight enough that even a box as weakened by rain as this, could be a useful stool.

After that it was only a matter of using his head and hands to push the heavy lid up high enough that he was able to give a light spring and hook one skinny leg over the top, then rummage around until he found what he sought. Today, he was lucky. The bag containing his prize was near the top, and within minutes he had it firmly in one grubby fist, then dropped back down to the ground, flattening the box and expertly snatching his fingers out of danger as the heavy lid dropped shut.

Saix checked over his shoulder again, ensuring that the coast was still clear, before sliding down on his haunches in the shadows of the bin to feast on his prize. Using his claws he stuffed the greasy morsel into his mouth, savoring each bite with relish. The squid was still crunchy, so it must have been dropped off only a few moments before. Today seemed promising already. Finishing the first tentacle, he eagerly devoured the remaining pieces, licking the juices from his fangs.

A sudden gust of wind poured up the alley, sweeping the box and its single remaining piece out of his startled hands and onto the sidewalk. " Shit." he muttered darkly. Standing quickly he stepped out onto the side walk, retrieving the box and checking to make sure the squid wasn't dirty. Thankfully, it wasn't, and he stuffed it into his mouth and worked it around a bit, stepping back into the shadows of the alley. It would probably be the last bit of squid he would taste for a long time, seeing as how it was rather expensive. People usually didn't just throw stuff like that away. Today he had simply been lucky. Suddenly, a shadow fell across him, freezing him where he stood.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? A mongrel human cub is it? Got any identification, sonny boy?"

Saix felt his blood chill in his veins, as though the sun had suddenly been blocked out and the world had gone dark. Fear twisted in his gut but he turned slowly. He knew who, or at least _what_ was addressing him without even looking, the arrogance in the voice was unmistakable. A Sweeper. Human too by the odor.

The towering figure was an imposing sight to say the least, the polluted wind of the city whipping his blood red trench coat around his body like the wings of a great dead bat; limp, tattered and leathery.

His hair, a fiery mane of layered crimson stuck up in all directions over his head, seeming to follow no particular pattern what-so-ever. A pair of motorcycle goggles were pushed up on the Sweeper's forehead, perhaps with the intention of keeping all that wild hair out of his face, but it didn't seem to be working. A few stray pieces blew gently before eyes of pure emerald which were narrowed as his mouth quirked upwards in smug amusement. The wind caught the long tail of hair at the nape of his neck and tossed it up over his shoulder, where it weaved on the wind like a snake ready to strike. The man's eyes swept over the small figure before him once, and the grin only widened.

" Hmmmnn. Now that I've had another look I guess you aren't human at all are yah, though you don't look entirely Were either. What kinda creature are you anyway, yo? Some kinda cross-breed?" He chuckled softly and then shrugged, glancing away down the street for a second before stepping into deeper into the alley, backing Saix up with him. His voice was affable enough, but there was no hiding the danger in his eyes. " Anyway, it doesn' matter what ya are, but you must nodda heard me coming right pup? Cause if you had you should be bowing to me. But we kin fix that right now, yeah? After all, disprespect to authorities is a crime you know."

Taking his cue Saix dropped to his hands and knees on the filthy pavement, staring at the man's scuffed black boots from only inches away. " F-forgive me Sir!" he squeaked.

His mind raced furiously. He was in trouble, that much was without question. As a Stray of Waste, he had no identification of any kind. No one born in the Waste did. Only those who had once lived as regular citizens had ID, or rather, their blood code had been extracted at birth and filed away in the city's massive computer data banks. After that, a tiny micro-chip, only about the size of a pin-head was inserted into the pad of the individual's thumb. When asked to present ID, all one had to do was press a thumb to the thumb pad on the portable white, "chip reader" disk offered to them, and Territh's computers would verify all information needed.

" Thats better, kid." The man chuckled. Inserting a cigarette into the corner of his mouth, he cupped his hand against the wind so that the frail flame of his lighter, presumably from the same pocket as his cigarettes, had time to catch and blew out a smoky breath of satisfaction.

_What should I do_! The thoughts screamed in Saix's brain. The pavement was cutting painfully into his knees, but he didn't dare move to rise. He could try running away, but the much larger man could easily catch him, and fighting was not an option. In the movement the man had made to light his cigarette he had tucked the weapon he'd been shouldering beneath one arm; a steel, telescoping baton with a single pointed end. It was a simple, yet deadly armament. Saix couldn't see the stun-gun he knew the Sweeper must also be carrying, but he doubted that he could out-run that either.

" So kid," the man's voice broke into his thoughts, " Ya gonna show me your ID or what? I ain't got all day." Keeping his head ducked low, the Were-cross pressed his lips into a firm line to keep them from trembling. He knew full well that the man didn't actually expect him to have any ID. It was obvious from his clothes and grubby body that he was a Stray.

The sound of the man's quiet laugh came again as the Sweeper knelt down by Saix's head, tapping his shoulder lightly with the blunt end of his Baton. A smoky exhalation send Saix coughing. " Whats wrong kiddo? Why so quiet? Don't tell me you ain't got any ID, a nice looking kid like you an all. It be a shame to have to send you to ol' smokey now wouldn't it."

Saix shuddered. "ol' smokey" was just another slang for the Watchtower. Of course, it was no secret that all criminals were executed there, regardless of age. Simply having no ID was a crime. _ Dammit! This scum's just playing with me! It'll only be a matter of time until he gets bored and hauls me to the Watchtower! Think! Think! _Saix was trembling, but risked sitting back on his heels, rubbing his hands on his pants to remove the grit that was biting into his flesh. Taking a quick glance up at the grinning face so close to his own, he resisted the urge to dig those two laughing eyes out with his bare claws. _Arrogant Bastard!_ Then a sudden flash of inspiration hit him. If he did it just right, he might have a chance. The kneeling man had unwittingly put himself in a vulnerable position, no doubt viewing this flea infested child as no threat what-so-ever. His mistake.

With a yell Saix launched himself straight at the shocked Sweeper's head, claws raking down both sides of his face faster than the eye could follow, carving two bloodied slashes on either cheekbone.

" SHIT!" The man stumbled backwards, dropping his cigarette, hand cupped to the side of his face and the other already swinging in for the counter attack.

Saix had anticipated the move, and had flung himself backwards and out of reach the moment his claws had made their mark, ducking just in time as the heavy Baton hummed angrily by overhead.

Then he was up and running, his feet pounding the pavement as he shot wildly back into the alley, towards the end, away from the crowds, noise and openness of the streets. He knew he didn't have a chance of out running the Sweeper in a straight race, so he zig-zagged around the numerous piles of garbage strewn willy-nilly across the way, counting on his smaller size and maneuverability to out distance his enemy.

Sure enough it was only a matter of seconds before he heard the heavy pounding of boots and an enraged yell as the larger man took up pursuit. Saix could only hope the man would decide to rely on speed to catch the much smaller prey. If he brought out the Stun-Gun, Saix probably wouldn't stand a change. The Sweepers were renowned for many things; the ability to use any weapon with perfect accuracy being one of them.

" Get back here brat!" The man's roar sounded frighteningly close. Too close.

_Oh Hell! The idiot's faster than I thought!_ Saix pushed his short legs faster, the adrenaline giving him an extra boost. He didn't dare look back, the footsteps were so close. In a single second, he realized his plan had failed before it had hardly begun.

The blow came fast and hard, a savage strike from the Baton's blunt end, clubbing his ribs and sending him into the alley wall. Saix curled up in a heap at its base, gasping, his mouth working like a fish out of water as he tried desperately to drag air into his lungs. It hurt to move, to breathe! Every bone in his side seemed as though it had been crushed in on itself! _O gods it hurt! _However, he had no time to dwell as a gloved hand snatched at the back of his grimy shirt and hauled in upright, slamming his back against the wall. The man's bleeding face pressed up close against his own, hot breath blasting him as the Sweeper ground out every word, his eyes burning like twin pools of green acid.

" Well brat. That was a nice try, but you made two very fatal mistakes. One: you tried to run. Second: you cut me. And now, little pup, I'm gonna make you bleed just a little as pay back before I send you to the incinerator with all the rest of the trash this city doesn't need!"

The red head swiveled the Baton around in long, delicate fingers, then brought the razor end up in the child's frightened face. " Too bad you're a half-breed. If you were a human child then I might only send you off crying, but seeing as ya aint, then I've gotta follow my orders, see. No Demons allowed in Territh. I don't care if you're a Were, vamp, Hider or Floater. Ya ain't human, ya aint welcome. So here's a quick little message for all your little demon friends, yo!"

Saix screamed as the Baton sliced into his forehead above his right eye, the man's other hand coming up to grip his chin, holding him still while his knee dug into Saix's chest, pinning him. Blood flooded his eyes almost immediately, blinding him. It was like falling into a lake and looking up at the blurred images above, except this wasn't water, even if he felt like he was drowning in it. The Baton moved slowly, carving a long diagonal line across the bridge of his nose and ending on his left cheek. Then the baton repeated the pattern starting over his left eye, until he had carved a gory X across the squealing, squirming child's face.

" Watsa matter,demon? Don't like blood? Oh, sorry, pardon me, you don't like _**your own**_ blood. Is that right?"

Saix sobbed and squirmed some more, his hands trying to cover his face, as if touching the wound would make it stop hurting. The Sweeper deftly set down his Baton and used his freed hand to smear the blood away with his gloves, admiring his handy work. " Ah, don't worry about it kid. Its a nice clean mark so it won't mess up your pretty features any. Also, don't worry about the blood on your clothes, cause I hear fire takes care of stains real good, and fire is something o'l Smokey's got lots of. Come on."

Seizing the bloodied, now limp Saix by his arm, the Sweeper turned and dragged the kid towards the open street again, back the way they'd come, not noticing, or if he did, not caring as that his captive wasn't walking with him but dragging like a limp doll, almost unconscious as shock set in. A large black van would be waiting for them about a block away. The Sweeper had parked it there himself when he'd started his patrol; how lucky that he managed to find quarry so soon. Useless human scum and purebred monsters were bad enough, but half-breeds were by far the worst. They always grew up causing the most trouble; a class all their own, accepted by neither the humans nor the monsters. To allow this small brat to live would be like letting a roach loose in your house and expecting it not to find another and multiply. The Sweeper was almost at the end of the alley, and he paused to hack up a spit-gob and shoot it on the ground. Yuck. He hated roaches.

" Put the kid down, Blood coat." the voice froze him on the spot. It was deep, with a strangely musical note to it, yet low, dark, and ...dangerous. He turned slowly, smirking.

" Never thought I'd see a blood sucker out during daylight hours. Guess there's always a first time for everything though." The Sweeper's smile came easily, and one could almost say--- joyfully. Here was a _real _challenge at last!

The vampire who stood before him seemed unimpressed. Still, after a few hundred years of living most things were unimpressive. You've seen em' once you've seen em' a hundred times so to speak.

The Sweeper seemed a cocky fellow indeed, and with a bloodied child dangling from one hand he certainly suited the part of Serial Killer, which was exactly what every single damn Sweeper really was when it all came down to it. Vincent Valentine had no use for such filth. Much less when they fell to the level of harming children, regardless of race. He spoke again, slowly, deep voice rolling in waves over the wild looking redhead. The wind whispered gently behind him, dragging on that long silken black mane his as though it wanted his attention, boiling his own red cloak around his body in a lover's embrace; Soft, caressing, hypnotizing. " I won't say it again, human. Release the child."

The man smiled, sliding his weight back on one heel and threw his narrow hip to the side, almost managing to look coy. " I 'm frightened." _not really, _" but tell me vampire, just what exactly do you plan to do with him? Drink his blood? He _is_ bleeding after all, a lot in fact. Though I guess I am too. Trust me he wouldn't make much of a meal. Maybe you'd better just let me burn him with all the rest of the trash, eh fella; he isn't worth your time. Then maybe if you're real good then I'll bring you a snack. Or was it my blood you're after?"

Vincent's face remained immobile, unreadable. But the cardinal eyes hooded. Humans could be so irritating. " I said I wouldn't ask again, so I won't. However, I should be sleeping right now, but the smell of your wretched, polluted blood was getting to me, and now I feel positively sick. I guess I'll just have to kill you as requital."

"Awww, its not nice to insult somebody you've just met. My name's Reno, whats yours" The Sweeper let the child drop to the ground, swinging his Baton from under his arm and letting it slid out to its full length. People passing on the street behind him had slowed or stopped to watch the unfolding drama. Wonderful, the more the merrier.

" Charmed. And none of your business." Vincent brought his left hand out from the shadows of his cloak where it had hidden until now. The golden gauntlet, the fingers shaped and sharpened into long claws, would be his weapon for now. There was no need to use his gun, Cerberus, in such close spaces. It would be a shame if any bystanders got hurt, not that he particularly cared about any of them, but he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible with as little mess as could be hoped for. Besides, he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist the alluring smell of blood that was dripping off the boy. He knew he shouldn't let his mind dwell on it, but it was so over powering, he couldn't help his eyes being drawn.

People everywhere were starting to look less like people, and more like food. He could hear their hearts beating from here, a pounding, pulsing sea of blood; hot, thick, rich blood. Rushing, flowing through veins like red water. Sweet, sweet blood. Hot, drinkable blood. He needed it. Wanted it. He could feel the familiar ache in his mouth as his fangs, both upper and lower, began to extend, glowing, lengthening. The pressure in his gums felt good, and he tasted blood, his blood, as the razor sharp edges cut into his lip.

A throaty chuckle broke into the trance he hadn't realized he'd fallen into. The vampire's eyes narrowed, fixing on the man's sniggering face, then darted to the child still unconscious at his feet and back again. Why was he laughing?

The Sweeper, Reno, twirled his baton, appearing at ease with the situation, but Vincent could hear the speeding beat of his heart, the rush of his blood. It leaked from his cheeks, smelling faintly of adrenaline. Vincent smiled; blood never lied.

" You vampires are all the same, yo." Reno reached up and dabbed a finger on his cheeks, coming away red. He rubbed it between thumb and forefinger, taunting. "The smell of blood and you show your true colors. Ha, you're no different from animals, isn't that right demon?"

Vincent didn't give him the pleasure of an answer. The sight of the warm wet blood smearing on the man's fingers was the final thread for his weakening self-control. He hadn't fed since the night before. To have so much blood suddenly here in front of him, so tantalizingly close was just too much.

He launched forward with eye blurring speed, his claws swinging in for the man's throat. He would taste blood this day, he would sink his fangs in deep and assuage his hunger, even if it was in the neck of his wretched excuse for humanity. His fangs ached, and he would saturate them in lovely red glory to appease his ravaging hunger!

Reno moved fast, faster than any regular human could ever hope to move, managing to blocked the swing of the vampire's metal claws with his Baton. Metal struck metal with a loud shriek of protest, sending the gathering crowd on the sidewalk scrambling. The training and conditioning he had received as a Sweeper had served him well, but it didn't change the fact that even so, had he been even a second slower he would probably be missing his head by now. The thought never fazed him though, even as the sheer force of the Vampire's charge brought him down, crashing back on the pavement with the vampire's full weight pinning him. Fangs bared just inches from his face, hungry, blood red eyes boring into his with rampant, wild-eyed blood-lust. The change was so dramatic from a few moments before, as if he had become a different creature entirely. But that was to be expected of a demon.

" This is just a tiny taste of the side of me that I call, Chaos." The Vampire hissed with no trace of the composure he had had only moments before.

" Charmed." Reno grinned, his own blood-lust rising. This is what he lived for.


	2. Chapter 2

The blow came fast and hard in the form of Reno's baton smashing upright into the vampire's jaw, snapping his head sideways enough that the fangs aimed for his jugular missed widely as the creature snarled in outrage. Swifter than a cat, Reno used the moment to squirm free from the vampire's body, flinging himself to the side as the clawed gauntlet came at his retreating back. It smashed harmlessly against the concrete wall, gouging deep holes as the claws sunk in up to the knuckles.

" Stand still!" the vampire hissed, eyes blazing like red fire. Reno laughed and parried the next blows much like he had the first one, deflecting again and again with his baton, feeling himself driven back each time they connected.

" You're a strong bugger aren't yah?" he gasped as the vampire suddenly came in low and hard, claws spread eagerly. The baton dropped fast, but instead of blocking the hand— a hand that would have shredded his stomach to ribbons---, it slid along the metal pole and smashed into his thigh, piercing him nearly to the bone. Reno couldn't stop the shriek that tore from his throat, but managed to muffle it some, tasting blood as his teeth sank into his tongue.

This seemed to excite the vampire further--- whether it was the scent of newly spilled blood or the sound of his pain he couldn't tell--- but the creature's eyes widened a bit, the pupils contracting to near pinpricks, adding a touch of the demonic to the creature's alabaster face.

Vincent felt like his insides where going to tear apart inside of him at that scream, as though some other being entangled in his entrails was struggling to break free. Which was, in fact, far too close to the truth for his liking. He could feel Chaos, the other entity that lived within his body, struggling for control. He could feel the demon pushing at his mind, trying to force its way past the walls he was struggling to maintain. _Not now, _he thought, grinding his teeth together as he watched his body move almost without his conscious control. Already, Chaos was influencing him.

_"Let me out!" _a low voice, bass and hissing, grated over his thoughts, overlaying them like a second skin.

"_No_." Vincent thought firmly, seeking an opening in Reno's defenses. To the sweeper's credit, he was actually rather good. Fast even.

"_Let me out!"_ the voice rose to a scream. " _I must fulfill my purpose! Let me destroy this lowly human, let me feast on the blood of his body! Let me tear him apart!" As _if to emphasize its point, Vincent felt hot blood-lust rush past his better judgment---blood-lust he had desperately been trying to regain control over--- and it was all he could do to keep himself from howling as he saw the red liquid blossoming on Reno's thigh, his fangs paining him. Chaos needed blood, but so did Vincent. The vampire needed it like a human needed air. Though truth be told, though he craved it so desperately, it was not essential to his survival. Without it he would fade and wither, like a plant deprived of water, but he would not die. if kept from it for too long a time, maybe years, he would fall into a trance-like sleep that would mimic death, but he wouldn't die, not really. He knew it from bitter experience.

Today, however, Vincent felt rather strange. He had fed only the other night and already the demon within him was becoming frantic. Usually, Vincent and his parasite only needed to feed every three days. This new development was, unsettling. Chaos was struggling impatiently; The vampire wasn't sure how much longer he could control it.

Vincent dodged a swipe from Reno's baton and dropped flat, snapping a pointed boot out and up, narrowly missing the human's groin as the man leaped in to land a blow that would've surely blinded him had he not blocked it with his gauntlet. Then he was up and running, appearing so fast behind the red-head that the man barely had time to turn before he was above him, a single leap placing him over the man's head. Vincent felt his body stiffen, his gauntleted hand coming down hard and straight like a spear, a spear that was aimed straight for the back of that creamy neck.

Chaos was overjoyed, seeing its goal so close. Its unperceived smile tugged at the corners of its host's mouth, baring Vincent's fangs in an uncharacteristic grin. Soon the Sweeper would be just a bloodied heap on the pavement, his neck snapped and all that beautiful red blood spilling across the ground. Sweet, sweet blood. Chaos couldn't resist the urge to squirm with glee.

Then things changed. Reno realized his danger and twisted, desperately flipping his weapon over and driving it straight up, point first.

White hot pain seared across Vincent's vision, blinding him; he felt Chaos scream with anger, and then he was hanging, his vision oddly blurred, somehow suspended above the red head's sneering gaze. Something red was oozing in wriggling strings onto the mans face, like water from a pitcher. For a breath he couldn't place what it was, in fact, he could barely process the thoughts Chaos was bombarding him with. Somehow, he felt strangely numb. Why was he hanging in mid air? Why wasn't he falling? Then the man below him twisted the weapon, its end somehow hidden from his gaze, and Vincent screamed.

It was agony that made him squirm, it was agony that brought cognizance. He was suspended above the ground, over half of the human's baton lodged in his gut. The red strings were his own blood, and a small part of him managed to wonder above the pain, how long it would take for a normal vampire to die like this, wriggling like a worm on a hook.

Reno had stared for a second in shock when the full weight of the vampire drove down onto the end of his baton, but shock was quickly replaced by exultation when he realized that he had assuredly just killed the creature. Its blood was stringing down over his face like syrup through a sieve, hot and wet. The look on the creature's face was familiar, something hovering between shock and blank confusion. It was the face of a demon who didn't realize he was dead yet. How long would it take for the thing to notice? Experimentally, he had given the baton a small twist.

When the creature suddenly came to life above him, he was forced to drop the baton to the ground, unable to hold it upright any longer at that angle even with his specially enhanced body.

Vincent groaned as he struck the ground, rough concrete scraping at his pale cheek. His head was still hazy, but pain was helping to clear it, just a little. The foremost thought in his mind seemed oddly calm, as though he was a mere bystander rather than a participant. " _How in the world this happen_?" Under normal circumstances there was no way he would have been so easily caught. Something was wrong.

When the Sweeper braced him with his boot on his chest and yanked the baton from his gut, he couldn't stop the blood that spewed from his mouth, pooling around his head, darkening the high collar of his mantle, nor the shrill groan that came with it. He clutched at his middle and curled in on himself in a futile effort to stop the flow. Warm and liquid, it slipped through his fingers. Separated from his body it wasn't long before it began to cool rapidly, growing sticky. Somewhere inside him he knew that even this wasn't enough to kill him, though another part of him felt like it might.

Sluggishly, he sensed rather than felt Chaos moving, the monster within recovering from the blow that had harmed its host. A warning bell went off in Vincent's head, but he wasn't able to react fast enough, to gather his scattered thoughts in time. Suddenly he felt Chaos surge forward, breaking through the weakened walls of his will, seizing the forefront of his mind with a grip that was frightening. He almost heard it snicker as the transformation began.

Reno wiped the bloodied implement on the edge of his cloak. His thigh was burning like hellfire, but he wasn't about to show it. His lip curled, glaring at the bloodied vampire at his feet. It almost managed to look pathetic lying there, like a small child, that ink-black mane hiding its agonized expression from view. Pity.

Quite suddenly, the creature began to tremble, shaking a bit as though a cold wind had swept up the alley, which it hadn't. In fact, since their fight had began, the wind seemed to have stopped entirely. The day was warmer than it had been in a long time, what with summer rapidly approaching.

" Tough luck, eh pal?" He teased.

The vampire didn't answer--- he hadn't expected it would--- obviously lost in its last moments of life. He would have liked to watch it die, perhaps drawing its death out a little longer, enough perhaps to get some information out of it as to the whereabouts of its clan. Vampires were solitary creatures by nature, but they always kept tabs on each other, more to maintain boundaries between territories rather than for any actual desire for company.

The voice-com attached to his belt crackled briefly, breaking into his thoughts. " Reno. Check in."

Grumbling he hit the button on its side with a finger. " I'm here. Just finishing off a Vamp. You?"

" A Vamp? You took one on alone? Reno, you know the rules. Neve---"

" yeah, yeah, yeah," Reno cut him off sharply. " Listen, Rude, don't tell me what I already know. Swing the van over here and pick me up, I've also got some cross-breed pup I need yah to take off my hands. Think you can do that before I die of old age?"

" Thats unlikely. We have a few suspicious individuals to check out over here. Possibly Hiders. It might take a bit."

The red-head snorted, rolling his eyes. " O yeah sure, leave me here all by myself. Nice Rude. So much for those rules you were preaching at me about just a few seconds ago. What if that vamp had gotten the best of me, eh? Would yah be the first to grieve when I became lunch?"

" As if..." the voice stated flatly on the other end, trailing off and muttering something about 'sour blood' . Reno wasn't sure if it said anything else, not that he particularly cared, and turned his attention back to the business at hand.

The vampire had begun to shudder even more violently than before, its legs stretching out and twitching, and he frowned, briefly considering moving back a few steps. A demon could still bite, even without its head. Perhaps he should simply finish it off, information be damned. It wasn't like he didn't already have a full schedule anyway. Besides, his leg was flaming killing him right now, and he didn't feel like having another spat with a monster at the moment.

Tightening his grip on the baton, Reno approached the creature's head, setting the pointed tip against its temple. He couldn't see its eyes, but he felt them watching him. A quick thrust downwards should be enough to drive the point of the weapon into the creature's skull, he mused, pursing his lips.

A small sob drew his attention to the blue-haired child struggling to his feet behind him. A thin red eyebrow slithered upwards. " Where do'yah think your off to,kiddo?"

The child didn't answer, but seemed to be staring at the shaking vampire at the Sweeper's feet. Reno noted with some alarm that the vampire had begun to growl, a sound low and threatening.

"Hmmm, not quite dead yet I see." Reno kicked it swiftly in the ribs, watching the creature jerk. "Don't worry pal, I'll fix that for yah."

" DON'T!" The were-child flung itself over the Vampire's head, halting the descending weapon.

" Stupid kid!" Reno seized him roughly by the hair and flung him aside, more concerned with the sudden movement of the vampire than the child. The creature sat up as though spring loaded, taking him by surprise. It was staring at him oddly.

" Cursed demon!" Reno moved fast, diving forward with the baton in front of him. So when the baton was wrenched out of his grasp and flung aside, himself with it, Reno was at a sudden loss for words. He fetched up against the far wall like a rag doll, nearly landing on the child sprawled there. He heard the crowds on the street begin to scream, and suddenly realized he had forgotten about them, he'd been so caught up in his fight. His emerald eyes snapped to the vampire, and the breath froze in his throat. "Shit."

The creature standing before him was no longer Vampire, or at least it was like no vampire he had ever seen before. Massive red wings, bats wings, unfurled with a snap, so large they bent up against the opposite walls of the narrow alley as though they could push them apart at a whim. Perhaps they could. The red scarf that had banded the vampire's forehead--- serving only to hold back all that black hair--- had morphed into something entirely different. It had hardened, multiplied, until a nest of bony red ribbons had formed, towering high over his head like some kind of demonic crown. The rest of his clothes had echoed it, hardening and changing, forming a sort of armor over his body that fit like a second skin, narrow slits providing flexibility. But it was the eyes that were most terrifying, the eyes of a wild thing, the eyes of a Hider, the type of demon spirit that lives in the bodies of others, using them as vessels. Pools of liquid gold, devoid of any whites, with tiny black pupils, reminiscent of the eyes of some ancient bird of prey. Suddenly Reno wasn't exactly sure if this was indeed the same creature he had faced earlier; it certainly didn't appear that way. He looked for signs of the wound he had made in its stomach, and felt his chest clench in horror when he couldn't find it. " What are you?!" He whispered.

As if it heard him---maybe it did---the demon turned, glowing eyes boring into him like cold ice. The head tilted, considering him, as if it was trying to make up its mind about something, or trying to remember.

The shrieks of the people drew its attention before it could make up its mind, however, and the beast turned, a low snarl bleeding from between exposed fangs, and it tensed, as if it expected to be attacked. Reno let his eyes slip to the side, not daring to move his head lest he attract its attention, and let his hand slowly inch its way towards his fallen weapon. A few inches farther and a finger touched steel, then there was a ping as it bumped against the concrete wall.

_Crap._

The monster turned with a snarl that was almost human, or maybe beast, Reno couldn't tell, then it leaped, flinging itself at him as he snatched the weapon and swung it. The beast caught it in its mouth, shrieking in rage from a distance of only a foot away. The maddened eyes blazed at him, and suddenly Reno felt true fear. His weapon was held fast in the maw of some great beast he had no name for, and reinforcements probably wouldn't arrive in time. With a cold chill Reno realized he was going to die.

A shrill scream from beside him stole the beasts attention, and as quickly as it had attacked him the beast dove, snatching up the little were-child in its mouth by his arm, making the kid scream again. Reno took the opportunity and dove, rolling across the ground and then stumbled for the street, waving his arms and yelling for people to 'get the hell away from the area'. There really was no need, almost the moment the beast had appeared the people had fled to safety, an now only a few brave, or stupid individuals huddled at the storefronts, recording the whole thing on their cellphones.

Reno flung himself behind a car and snatched his voice-com from his hip. " Where the hell is everybody!!!" he roared, but didn't bother listening to the garbled answer on the other end, because at just that moment the blackened " van", a fully outfitted vehicle appeared around the corner, brakes shrieking as the whole thing stopped suddenly as the former vampire now monster stepped from the alley, still holding a flailing child, though now in one hand rather than in its mouth. Stretching its wings to the fullest extent the beast spun and attacked throwing itself at the armored vehicle, punching a hole right through the front of it with a single swing of its free hand. The van shook and nearly fell over from the impact, and Reno fumbled for his gun, buried beneath his coat. " SHIT, SHIT, DOUBLE SMOKING SHIT!"

The beast had flung itself on top of the damaged machine, and was unceremoniously shredding it apart, its claws and teeth coming into play, ripping glass and metal alike like so much tin foil. Miraculously, somehow the child under its free arm hadn't been injured any farther as far as Reno could tell, but that wasn't his most pressing concern. The air filled with the yells of the Sweepers inside, gunshots cracking the air above tearing metal. Every shot seemed to aggravate the vampire further, until suddenly with a single beat of its wings it shot up into the air, circling above the van like a giant scavenging bird. Then its wings folded and it dropped, cutting the air like a knife and came down feet first, crumpling the vehicle like cardboard. Screams of shock, pain and breaking bones filled the air.

Reno fired off a few random shots, but none of them hit, he was trembling too hard. _What kind __of monster is this_!

The Van resembled a broken egg carton now, caved in upon itself and shredded almost beyond recognition, but it wasn't yoke that was dribbling from the openings. It was blood, rivers of red, slippery blood pooling beneath the car and mingling with its spilled fuel.

"RUDE! RUDE, ANSWER ME!" Reno's voice sounded hoarse, frantic, but he yelled anyway, pressing the Voice-com to his mouth as though the closer he held it somehow made him more likely to get a response. There was silence. Reno chanced a quick look through the windows of the car that was his cover.

The red armored beast had settled on the road beside the car, seeming suddenly content and unperturbed now that the shooting from within the wreckage had stopped. It crouched on all fours--- or should he say on all threes seeing as it still held the struggling child beneath one arm---and appeared to be examining the pools of red at its feet. A long tongue snaked out, dipping experimentally and then lapping it up into its fanged mouth.

Apparently the taste wasn't all that pleasing, because the beast snarled and spat it out just as fast, then shifted irritably over to the next pool. This too was disagreeable, and he finally opted to lick at the small rivulets pouring off the truck's sides from its shattered windows, catching it on its long tongue before it could fall to the ground and be contaminated by the engine fuel. It was not unlike a kid licking at an icicle.

Steeling himself, Reno fought the urge to vomit when he noticed the nearly severed arm of one of the dead Sweepers danging from an open window. The beast had moved along the vehicle's sides until it had reached the offending limb, and seemed to be playing with it, flicking it with its tongue, then nudging with its nose, encouraging the steady stream of blood that oozed from its broken end. All the rage seemed to have melted away, leaving a creature that could very well have brought images of a dog with a chew toy to mind had it not been for the crushed and oozing car and the broken corpses that assuredly remained within.

Could one of them be his parter, Rude?

Reno's eyes narrowed dangerously and he rose a little higher, enough to settle his gun over the top of the car. He moved slowly, not wanting to attract the beast's attention, and slowly eased the safety back on his gun. He tapped the smooth pad on its side with a slender finger, adjusting the digital settings from a harmless stun setting, to a kill shot. It was always risky, using a stun gun for this kind of work; the materia used in it was often unstable and uncontrollable when set this high. There was even a chance that it could scatter and kill any potential survivors inside the wreckage. Reno hesitated, gazing down the barrel at the feeding beast. His hands shook a little less but not enough to suit him. He was no coward, but nor was he stupid, nor afraid to admit when he was afraid. And in this case he most certainly was; Yet even in gazing at this terrible creature before him, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of awe and fascination stir in his gut.

As if sensing it was being watched, the vampire suddenly froze, its crowned head snapping upright and tilting, as if it were listening.

Reno held his breath, waiting.

Waiting...

Waiting...

The few seconds that past felt like hours, when the beast suddenly turned and let out a 'yell' of renewed rage--- that was the only word Reno could think of to describe the sound--- it was so human he could almost hear words. Fixing its eyes on where he hid, the vampire stood up to its full height, an estimated 7', and spread the wings to their fullest extent, almost as though it were challenging Reno, daring the Sweeper to shoot.

Suddenly, and for a reason Reno couldn't quite explain, but would later put down to as pure luck or divine inspiration, Reno lowered his gun. Slowly he slid down out of site, grunting as his injured leg sent hot fingers of pain shooting from hips to toes. Maybe if he didn't appear to be a threat, the beast would leave him alone. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a caged bird, and he absently wondered if it might bruise them.

There was no sound from behind him, at least, no sound of the creature approaching him. He waited for what must have been fifteen minutes before chancing a look again.

The beast was gone.

Finding that hard to believe it was another five minutes before Reno stepped out from behind the car and into the empty street. Assured at last that the vampire wasn't simply lurking somewhere in the shadows the Sweeper darted across the street to the mashed Van. The doors were so badly crumpled in on themselves that it was pointless to even think of opening them. Instead he threw his coat over the smashed glass to protect his hands and crawled in through the front window. " Rude!" He could only crawl partway into the car---the roof was caved in too far behind the driver's seat for him to see clearly. From the dark he heard the soft moans of the wounded. He called again, softly, as though the beast was still present. " Rude! Answer me if you're alive dammit, cos if you don't and if you ain't then I'll personally bring you back to life so I can kill you myself!"

" Shut up....uuhh." Came the muffled response from the dark.

Reno let his head drop onto his arms. Relief was so strong he could almost taste it, or was that bile? The stench of blood and death filled the Van. " You in one piece?"

" Think so. You?"

" Bit battered, but still kick'in. I can't tell ya how much I could use a good beer at Tifa's bar right now. Ya up for some?"

"S...Sure."


	3. Chapter 3

Saix had woken up to better sights. Finding himself hanging under the arm of some great demonic beast on an abandoned balcony over eight stories above street level wasn't exactly his cup of tea. In fact, this had probably been the worst cup of tea ever, cold with no sugar and tons of caffeine. He braced himself and shut his eyes, hoping he wouldn't start screaming like a little girl. It was dark, and the street lights cast dirty orange pools of light on the pavement below.

The monster must have noticed his awakening because it shifted on the railing it was perched on and set him gently down beside it .

The stone railing was wide enough for Saix to cling to and the moment he was set down he latched onto it on all fours like it was the only thing between him and a fall to his death, which it was.

Cars honked and growled below him, and the Were turned his head and whimpered.

The winged beast watched him balefully from one glowing golden eye, his face and body mostly hidden in the night darkness. He sat easily on the ledge as though it was the most natural thing in the world. The massive leathery wings were tucked safely against his back and his elbows were resting on his knees, like some great red and black gargoyle. " You wet the ledge kid and I swear I'll throw you off." the deep voice rolled over the quivering child.

Saix made and little 'aa...aahha...aaa' sound and started to cry. To hell with dignity! He didn't want to be lunch for a giant evil bat creature! He didn't want to die! He wanted to go home to his nice little cardboard box and his garbage cans and hunt rats and mice with the other Were children! He wanted off of this damn ledge!!!

Vincent glanced disdainfully at the sobbing little runt he had rescued and wondered if he really had been in his right mind at the time. Well, before Chaos took over that is. Why had he saved the stupid kid anyway? It was a Were for goddess sake! Were's peed on his buildings and howled and yipped at all ours of the day and night like nobody's business. Anyway, now that Chaos had fed he was slowly relinquishing Vincent's mind and body back to their rightful owner. The body still looked like Chaos, but it was Vincent who was controlling it this time. frankly, this one stunk to high heaven. The sooner he got rid of this one the better.

Saix nearly fell of the ledge when the 'Bat creature' suddenly crouched down to his level, eye to eye and growled." Let's get you home kid. Where's your pack?"

" I...I don't have a pack."

" Then Where do you live?"

" Back near the Alley."

" Well forget that kid, the place is a trash heap by now and probably crawling with sweepers, the alive kind that is." Vincent snorted.

The kid looked helpless for a moment, biting his lower lip to try and stop the crying, but the tears continued to pour unchecked down his smudgy cheeks. " But I need to get back. Its not like I have any other place to go to."

" Too bad for you then. I didn't save you so you just to send you back to get killed. I'll take you somewhere else."

Saix squirmed and gave a loud 'eeep' as Vincent scooped him up from the railing and leaped into the air, his wings extending to catch a slight breeze.

They glided silently, winging low and fast over the streets and between buildings for what felt like hours until they left the busy streets of Territh behind. Once over the Waste the change was incredible; cars seemed to vanish and there were no lights to see by. It was like sailing into a dark void where nothing existed but the beat of the monster's wings and the pounding of Saix's heart. The Were clung for dear life to the strong arms that held him gently and wished that he was back on the ground again.

Vincent was thankful that he couldn't remember much of happened after Chaos took over, which was probably a good thing. When he had come back to himself he was a little disconcerted to discover that he was splashed with blood from head to toe; bits of metal and glass were stuck in his skin and he seemed to shed them every time he moved. Whatever had happened, it didn't look like it had been pretty. He might go and survey the damage another day when things had calmed down, as he was sure that Chaos had probably left all hell behind in his wake. The demon tended to have that track record.

What surprised Vincent even more though was the kid he had discovered under his arm. Chaos usually wasn't that generous; under normal circumstances he killed anything that might be perceived as a threat and then devoured whatever bloody mess was left behind. Then it hit him that perhaps Chaos hadn't been saving the kid at all, maybe he was just a snack for later.

" _An excellent deduction, Vincent." _As usual, Chaos was listening in on his thoughts.

" _you would have eaten a child?" _Vincent thought back furiously.

The sibilant voice chuckled, deep and echoing like as an old village well. "_As if I haven't many times before. Don't you remember, dearest host?" _

Vincent shuddered. He did remember. He remembered vomiting up the remains of Chaos's meal, discovering tiny bones and bits of undigested child's clothing, among other things. He had gone too long without drinking blood, so when Chaos took over he had been in such a rush to sate himself that he had devoured his victims entirely. It wasn't just children, however; Vincent had also discovered evidence that adults and even a dog had fallen victim.

Vincent had tired to kill himself that day, unable to live with himself nor the memory of the horrendous sins he/ Chaos had committed. As usual, his attempt failed. His body regenerated from the gun shot wound to the head within minutes, simply pushing the bullet from his skull and healing over without a single mark, leaving the vampire frustrated and very much alive.

And throughout the entire ordeal, Chaos had been laughing at him.

In the mean time though, were was he going to take this kid? It wasn't safe to just dump him on the street somewhere, although it was a tempting idea, his conscience wouldn't hear of it. He needed a place where the kid could stay and rest from the wounds that he had received, one from the Sweeper, and one---Vincent winced---from Chaos. Suddenly he changed direction, heading for the outskirts of the Waste and away from its dark center. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that before! He knew of just the place.

Saix got his wish when the vampire spotted a suitable place to land, and then they were sweeping down abruptly. The Were's stomach flipped at the sudden drop, the air rushing past his ears as they descended, then just when he though they were going to hit the pavement Vincent's wings shot straight out, spreading and slowing them down, then beating strongly and raising up a massive dust cloud as they settled.

The vampire dumped the kid on the ground and transformed, allowing his wings and the armored crown on his head to vanish in smoky wisps of red and black. Chaos hissed slightly as he retreated fully, but otherwise vanished without further argument. In a moment it was only Vincent, standing beside a shaking, dumbfounded brat who stared at him with open mouth flapping. " Wha...how... eh?"

Ignoring him, Vincent went straight up to the door of the small, ram-shackled building and rapped the knuckles of his gauntlet against the heavy metal. For a moment there was silence, then he knocked again, louder this time, and was instantly rewarded by a stream of nearly unintelligible profanity and muffled crashing.

Something heavy was flung against a wall, and then there was the sound of rummaging and shoving, as though someone was clearing a path to the door. Saix, overcoming his shock with speed characteristic of most children his age, cocked his head as he was finally able to make out words.

"Dang blasted thing......what jackass fool... callin......too late...man needs sleep dammit. unheathly....Shit ass chair!!!" A bolt---several bolts---were pulled back followed by more cursing that could have turned a sailor red, and then the door was cracked open just enough for whoever was inside to get a peek at the 'jackass fool' who dared to awaken him at this hour. " Beat it or I'll...!" The tirade stopped dead as the man inside, a mighty unshaven looking blond with a cigarette dangling from his lips, got a good look at the Vampire at his door. For a second he stopped dead, this eyes widening blearily and then trying to focus before mumbling, " Shit, Vin. Waddya doing here at this hour. And why are there two a yah? Got a twin I don't know 'bout? Stop moving and driftin' around, I can't focus."

" I haven't moved." Vincent muttered, but the human didn't seem to hear him.

A wave of alcoholic vapors poured from the open door, assaulting Saix's delicate senses.

The man reeked!

Vincent tilted his head away as the man threw open the door and leaned (staggered) over to him for a closer look. " Vinny babe, you're bleedin! You hurt or somethin?"

" You reek Cid. I thought you were going to go easy after last time."

" Yeah, and I still am. Just not tonight s'all" The man called Cid reached out with concern etched on his still hazy features and gently tried to wipe away the blood from the vampire's tattered red mantle, but the sleeve he used was smeared with something black and gooey, and it promptly only made the matter worse as he tried with misguided vigor to clean up the man before him.

The vampire's dead-pan look was mostly hidden behind the cowl of his mantle, but the elegant black eye brows skittered up higher when he saw the mess the man was making. Quickly he fended off his attempts to 'help' by stepping back out of his reach, only to dive forward again and catch him when the blond over-balanced and fell.

" Cid, you're drunk off your ass."

" Nah hardly yet, babe. Nah hardly yet! Jesh wait till I really git go'in!" Cid slurred, hanging bonelessly as the vampire, with a long suffering grunt, hoisted him up onto his feet and lead him into the house, saying over his shoulder. " In here kid."

At first Saix didn't move. He wanted to run from here, away from that freaky vampire creature who had hurt him, and rescued him, all in one day. That fact alone rankled him to no end. Vampire's and Were wolves weren't exactly enemies, but they weren't really friends either. They tended to avoid each other in general, but maybe that was only because they couldn't afford turf wars when there was so much else to worry about, like sweepers for example. Saix supposed he should be grateful that he wasn't just another dead body in the incinerator right now, but it still irritated him to own his life to a Vamp. Were's were noted for their pride after all. And on top of all that, he didn't like the look of the human. What guarantee did Saix have that the man wasn't going to up and turn them in the moment he sobered up. Yet the vampire seemed to trust him. The confusing questions and possibilities whirled unanswered around his skull until Saix started to feel dizzy from it all.

As if anticipating what was going on, the vampire appeared in the door again and stuck his head out, " There's food in here if you want it, kid." Then disappeared inside once more, leaving the door open. The message seemed obvious. Come or stay, it doesn't matter to me.

The half-were's stomach growled loudly and he winced. Of course there was that too. He hadn't eaten since this morning and by now he guessed that it was nearly the middle of the night. He could hear plates clattering on a wooden table and wondered what it might be like to eat a real meal for once. Curiosity, the desire to run and a burning hunger warred inside of him for maybe a grand total of one minute before he followed the vampire inside.


	4. Chapter 4

The small shack the human inhabited was, to say the least, filthy. Bits and pieces of scrap metal, engine parts, wires and welding tools lay jumbled about on most available surfaces. A small can of black oil oozed onto a small round floor rug, or at least what was visible of it beneath all manner of metal rubbish. The place looked like a graveyard for all things mechanical. The vampire found his nose wrinkling in disgust. How some humans could live like this he would never know.

" _Ha! The place looks like every garbage eating monster in Territh just vomited in the living room." _Chaos's smooth, arrogant voice commented in the back of his mind.

Per usual, when Chaos made an observation, he was generally right, not that Vincent would ever admit it though. Vincent mentally admonished the parasitic Hider, who made a face of smug satisfaction and condescended to present his host with a rude gesture.

Completely oblivious to the exchange going on in his savior's mind, Saix grimaced as he stepped gingerly into the house, walking on his toes around piles of haphazard junk. " Gross." he muttered, carefully keeping his voice low enough so as not to be overheard. However, he underestimated a vampire's sense of hearing. He gave a yelp of surprise when his rescuer's smooth, dark voice resonated from behind a heap of derbies that could reasonably have been a kitchen at one point.

" Don't judge a man by first appearances."

Hesitating, one foot held aloft as he deftly avoided a large stain of engine oil, Saix growled, fast regaining the spitfire attitude that had enabled him to survive for so long on the streets. " Mother always said that a man's territory reflects the state of his mind and heart."

" Then you have no need to worry. Cid may be a human, but he has a heart of pure gold, even if he is a bit..."

" Messed up?"

" Eccentric, and unique."

" Mom said that those were just polite words for Nutcase and Moron."

" Your mother was a clever woman."

The vampire rummaged through a massive and horribly tangled pile of wires to get to the fridge behind it. Above his head, a weakly flickering light-bulb dangled despairingly from a single wire in the ceiling, casing a shadow over the towering mass. The whole thing looking like some mutant spaghetti dinner. Saix almost wondered if it would suddenly come to life and devour their brains like some kind of B rate movie monster.

Reaching the table, the Were eased into a seat and eyed the man before him. The human had succumbed to the effects of the alcohol and was passed out in his chair, his head nestled among a pile of nuts, bolts and rubber washers. Drooling contentedly, he was oblivious to the battle going on behind him with the resident wire monster. The cigarette had long since fallen from his mouth, growing soggy in a pool of saliva.

Screwing up his injured face, and immediately regretting it, Saix suddenly wasn't so sure if he wanted food after all.

In the kitchen, Vincent fought the urge to swear as the towering pile of wires resisted his attempts to push it aside enough to get the fridge door open. Like a dragon guarding its cave of treasures, the wire beast lunched/toppled forward, nearly flattening the vampire beneath its weight as it fell on top of him. Thoroughly entangled within the multi-colored pile, Vincent paused, mentally counting to ten while Chaos squirmed up a storm in his head, informing him of all the horrible things he could do to that less that cooperative wire pile if Vincent would only let him out again. It was quite tempting. However, setting Chaos loose on every wire pile that happen to frustrate him wasn't exactly a wise move to make. So Vincent counted. When he finished he sucked in a deep, calming breath and shoved his arms out through the mass until he could get a reasonable grip on the whole thing. With a heave he hoisted the entire thing up like a lady's skirt and walked it from the kitchen.

Twice he nearly tripped, his pointed brass boots snagging on dragging wires, but with a little fancy footwork he managed. Once in an appropriate place, he fought and wrestled with it until he had made and opening wide enough for him to slip through, depositing the whole thing in the middle of Cid's living room. Returning to the kitchen, he shot a passing glare at the Were-child, daring him to comment. Wisely, Saix said nothing, tracking the vampire's progress with eyes like wells of gold, still somewhat unsure and frightened by this dark creature. Of course--- and here the corner of his delicate mouth twitched slightly upwards--- that last little incident was just plain amusing, and had done much to take the edge off his fear; apparently even evil bat creatures had their awkward moments.

With the fridge now accessible, Vincent proceeded to sort through the myriad of questionable items that inhabited the shelves, most of which had spoiled ages ago. For once he was thankful that his sole source of nourishment came from blood, so he need not concern himself with such perishable foods anymore. The young Were however, was another matter. Still suffering from mild shock, the child was visibly trembling, though he doubted the kid was aware of it. Also, it was now getting onto 2:00am, and he had no way of knowing if the kid had eaten at all that day.

Wrinkling his nose disdainfully at a disgustingly fuzzy tomato, ( he could have sworn it winked at him) Vincent shut the fridge and vowed to bury the thing in a VERY deep hole the first chance he got.

Further exploration of the cupboards offered up pitiful fruit for his efforts: a can of beef stew, a bent spoon, and zero can openers. There was probably one lurking beneath the hellish pile of dirty dishes that had taken over Cid's counter space, but Vincent had fought enough house-hold monsters for one day. Mourning the insult to his finely crafted gauntlet, he punched a hold in the top of the can with a claw, the razor sharp talons cutting through the lid like tinfoil. Since there were no clean bowls available, and the stove was nowhere to be seen, the kid would have to eat it cold. Still, it was better than nothing.

Saix wasn't picky, life of scavenging from garbage cans had taught him to take what he could when it came along, and truth be told, he had eaten far worse things than a can full of the cold beef stew that the vampire now set before him. With hardly a pause he snatched up the spoon and dug in, bolting down the food as though any second it would be taken away from him.

Vincent winced, noticing suddenly how painfully thin the child was. Through a filthy and tattered shirt, stained now with the Were's own blood, Vincent could see the child's ribs pressing against the skin. Several small sores were weeping through the fabric, small dark spots of infected fluid staining the cloth.

Those would have to be tended to, but for now the most pressing injury was the most obvious; that horrible X carved into the delicate skin on the child's face.

The mere sight made his stomach clench with rage, and Vincent found himself wishing that he had had a chance to kill the sweeper who had inflicted such injury upon a helpless child. Such vermin should never be permitted to live. Unfortunately, Chaos had taken over before he had been given the chance, and now he had no way of knowing if justice had been served.

"_Bit too skinny for my tastes; still, he'd make a nice crunchy snack." _Chaos purred.

"_Go back to sleep." _Vincent's left eye twitched.

" _mmmhhh? And who is going to make me? You? Besides, things are far too interesting out here, especially now that we're out of that stuffy coffin you seem to fancy. Frankly, I've slept in more opulent beds in my time. You really should think of upgrading." _Extending a long claw, the creature called Chaos reached into the vast library that made up his host's memories and pulled forth a dusty tome, long since buried, but not quite forgotten. Over the years since Chaos had first come to Vincent, he had systematically gone through every memory Vincent had, familiarizing himself with the ways and workings of his new host until he knew them all by heart, using them to his advantage with painful frequency. Painful to Vincent that is; to Chaos, it was an escape from the perpetual boredom that afflicts every immortal, and perhaps it was also a childish way of tormenting Vincent when he didn't get his way.

Cracking open the tome, Chaos laughed as the pages spilled forth from the book like a cloud of bats from a cave, rising in a swirling storm and fitting themselves into place in mid air like an enormous puzzle. In seconds the vast darkness that was the vampire's mind was transformed, the memory forming walls and floors, desks, tables and elegant Wutian carpets. Chandeliers glittered with elegant slivers of glowing Mako crystal, filling the room with their own incandescent green light. A large four poster bed, complete with thick drapes of blackest silk and lace, was piled high with rich Chocobo down pillows and quilts of the deepest burgundy, warm red wine spun into silk. Threaded in silver, a brace of unicorns with flowing manes and cloven hooves galloped across the spread, long leonine tails twisted, elegantly endowed with points of starlight against a background of silver trees.

With a sigh, Chaos lay back on the bed, clutching the quilts above his head and laughing softly. His massive wings spread themselves out sideways, pouring off the sides of the bed and onto the floor where they lay slightly twitching as the thick rugs caressed them." _This used to be ours, once upon a time. Do you not miss it? The feel of cool silk sheets against your naked skin? The warmth of a woman's body nestled at your side? It would not be too hard to regain, I think, if you only tried."_

"_Shut up! SHUT UP do you hear me!"_ Mentally, Vincent hissed, closing his eyes as if that could somehow block out the Hider's voice. Within him, daggers of icy pain cut deep into unhealed wounds, reopening a whole flood of emotions whose existence he had long ago refused to acknowledge.

"_hmm? Whats this? Emotion?" _the Hider drew a long finger across black lips, slowly, before gently sucking at velvet skin. Hellish golden eyes darted upwards, tracking the path of the thin threads of blood red emotion that drifted and flickered at the edges of the room. Lifting an enormous wing, he fanned them slightly, delight splitting the beautiful face with a decidedly ghoulish grin as he felt his host shudder. " _Painful, is it?" _He whispered.

It was, very much so, so much that Vincent gasped, clutching suddenly at his head, hardly realizing that he'd done so.

At the table, the tiny Were had polished off the food and was starting to lick the can clean when he stopped, tongue still probing deep inside the tin for leftover sauce, and glanced nervously as the vampire lurched. " You ok, Mr?" he asked, more than a little suspicious.

Shaking his head, the vampire turned and walked quickly from the kitchen. " Its nothing; A headache."

" _Just a headache? Is THAT all this is...?"_ Chaos indicated the room with a eloquent sweet of his hand. Then at the edge of the room , a door that Vincent could never forget in a million years creaked slowly open, and through it came the sound of low human voices, whispering; the words were strangely muffled, as if the hand of time had drawn a thick curtain over it, concealing words that he had never been meant to hear.

Chaos continued and jerked his chin at the door. " _Is that all THEY are?"_

The vampire groaned, stumbling into the living room, finding a small clean spot to stand in. He brought his good hand up and massaged his temple. " Why are you doing this, Chaos. Why now?" he whispered, wary lest the little Were should over-hear.

" _Why did you save that boy?" _The Hider shot back, answering a question with a question. "_ Why did HIS screams draw you from your sanctuary when no other has been able too? Why now? For what reason? This goes against your previous method of conduct and I must say I am quite...intrigued." _

" _I am not bound to give reason for my choice of action to one such as you, Chaos! Leave the matter be." _

" _Don't think I don't know what you are doing, host. I know you too well for that. In time, whether you like it or not, you will have to face your past. History has a way of...'repeating itself'. I believe that is the phrase those humans use. How quaint. If humans could simply learn from their mistakes, they could easily avoid all such __**mortal**__ follies. However, they refuse to learn from the wisdom of those who have walked the path before them, and thus, the endless stupidity is continued, a perpetual wheel that is ever turning; the same mistakes, the same consequences, the same end . Just like you, just like...__**them.**__"_

"Do not speak to me of them!" Vincent rasped. He was starting to feel a tad light-headed and began making his way towards the door. The cool air would calm him, help quell the rising agony the shaky memories were bringing. The same pains he had tried for an eternity to forget. It would be better if he left now, before he became anymore involved that he already was. Cid was a good man, he would look after the kid, even if he was entirely disorganized.

Then Vincent could go back to his coffin and sleep for as long as it took to forget, Chaos would follow suit and then the memories could be put to rest once again.

It would have been better if he had never awoken, if he could have continued uninterrupted in his sleep. Already, as it happened every time he was forced to awaken, he only caused more grief.

However, the child had been in danger, and Vincent knew that he would never have forgiven himself if he had sat back and allowed the child to be slaughtered. He already bore so many sins upon his conscience. He would not add this child's life to his list of failures. Allowing Chaos's wings to emerge, he prepared to leave, stalking from the house and into the darkened street.

Becoming frightened now, Saix scrambled down from the table and stood uncertainly at the entrance to the living room, hesitant to follow, unsure yet if he even wanted to be any where near the dark creature who had rescued him, yet afraid to be alone. Sure the other one, the human at the table seemed fine now, dead asleep in a drunken stupor, but what about later, what would be be like when he woke up? Saix already had no reason to love humans, his bleeding face would be a permanent testimony to that. The vampire said the man was trustworthy, but dare he trust? Saix had never trusted anyone in his short life. Trust made you vulnerable, trust made you weak. Didn't it? Wasn't that what had killed mother? Trust?

Hesitating for only a second more, the Were made a dash for the door. Even if the creature utterly frightened him, that didn't change the fact that he had saved his life, and even fed him to boot. That made him first choice in Saix's book any-day.

" Wait! Where are you going?" But he only made it partway into the metal jungle before his exhaustion got the better of him. He was injured, and still hungry, and his energy was mostly gone, making him clumsy. Leaping over the defeated wire monster he tripped, his feet snagging in cords and fell flat, crying out in pain as he struck his head on a heavy red tackle box.

At the sound Vincent froze, then strode quickly back into the house.

" _Your whelp is calling."_ Chaos cooed, a particularly nasty sound coming from a Hider.

Crossing the room quickly, the vampire knelt and pulled the child up, cradling him quickly to his chest. " What happened?" He asked.

Clutching his head, Saix struggled not to burst into tears. " Nothing. I just tripped, thats all." then, in a small voice. " Please don't leave."

Vincent groaned internally, not in frustration, but in regret. The Were cub was frightened, and Vincent had simply left the house with no warning and with every intention of leaving him there, alone, with a strange human the child had never even had a chance to be introduced to. Not that Vincent was a better choice for comfort mind you, being a vampire and having injured the child's arm with his own fangs earlier, but at least he had rescued him. That made him a slightly safer choice than the former in Saix's mind.

Vincent winced, examining the child's head which was now bleeding freely again. Another injury, and all his fault. If he hadn't of left the room in such a hurry, if he had only taken the time to reassure the child, this wouldn't have happened. However, years spent sleeping in a coffin with only one's parasite for company did nothing for his social skills. Mostly, if he had to interact with other beings at all, it was to feed or to defend himself. Having to think about others instead of himself for a change, was difficult. Still, he spoke gently, putting to use what little he remembered about manners when one has done another wrong. " Forgive me, I was being selfish to leave you here. I will stay with you."

The child relaxed, and Vincent felt a small rush of relief. Then, he glanced down at where his hand was pressed against the child's back, the blood and infected fluids from the Were's body wetting his leather glove. Of course, in his rush to escape logic and reason had meant little. Had he left, the child would have had to fend for himself till morning, as it was obvious now that Cid wasn't going to wake up anytime soon for anyone. When the fumes of his alcohol induced sleep finally passed, the child could already be well on his way to a very serious infection. These wounds needed tending too, and quickly.

" Come, lets get you cleaned up. I'm not sure what Cid has in this so-called house of his, but I'll find something."

Picking up the Were, who allowed himself to be carried without a fuss, the Vampire went back into the kitchen.


End file.
